This story comes straight from my wife, straight from Camille’s day care teacher:
The other day the kids are in the church library at the day care. Ms. Boxman, an extraordinarily elderly woman was reading to Camille’s class, but suddenly turned pale and showed signs of distress. The teachers got her a glass of water and began to usher the kids out of the library. As they’re lining up, little Camille ducks away and walks over to Ms. Boxman and gives her a hug and a pat.
Our little tender-hearted sweetie.
Tonight, Camille had a pretty tender bottom. Right before chowing down on dinner, she says, "Daddy, I gotta go potty."
Well, as I’m taking her she changes her mind, but I insist. I take off her diaper and it’s pretty wet, but there’s signs of a possible BM on the way. So I go ahead and place her on the potty. After a massive push she passes what can be described as a push pop. Abby and I do the obligatory shouting and singing for Camille’s effort. But I was feeling her pain after losing that one.
Sorry about the potty humor, but we are so proud of how she’s seeking the comfort of the potty.
And, to my astonishment, after I put her in the crib and sit in the rocking chair, she asks if she can sleep in her "new" bed, a toddler bed we put in her room back in December.
Next thing you know she’ll want to borrow the car. Where’s the time gone!